


Basorexia

by Trotzkopf



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Comedy, Fluff, Kissing, Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-07 09:02:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 9,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14077455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trotzkopf/pseuds/Trotzkopf
Summary: A collection of kiss prompt drabbles first posted on my tumblr - more to be added when they appear. The chapter titles specify the where and why the kisses happen.





	1. In the Moonlight - First Date

The table was set. Candles were lit. A full moon and twinkling stars set the mood on the roof terrace as did the blood-curdling howl, ripping through the warm midsummer-night air.

“I still think this is a terrible plan,” Sam Vimes muttered out of the corner of his mouth as he sat down. The chairs were arranged side by side rather than opposite each other which meant his thigh was touching the Patrician’s every time he fidgeted, which he did a lot.

“Oh, I agree,” Havelock concurred, unfolding his napkin and placing it in his lap. “But that doesn’t mean it won’t work.”

“We’re completely exposed up here,” Vimes hissed, his eyes darting left and right.

“Which, I believe, was the point? Romantic, yet easily accessible? Also, may I remind you that you insisted it had to be you?”

The commander clicked his tongue. “Can’t risk it. Blackmail is one thing, but after what he did to Mr Salter after he refused to pay…We’re dealing with a lunatic.”

“And that was of course the only reason.” Vetinari sounded amused.

Vimes gave him a sharp look. “This is hardly the time or place to get into that.”

The Patrician chuckled and lifted the bottle of champagne out of the ice cooler. “Do you mind?”

“No, go ahead, sir,” Vimes said absentmindedly. He twirled his knife between his fingers until the Patrician coughed in a meaningful way. He put it down and started to bounce his leg instead.

“Given the circumstances, I think you should call me Havelock.”

“Well, it’s not like he can hear us.” Vimes pointed out, eyes surreptitiously scanning the neighbouring rooftops.

“Sam?”

Vimes turned his head and stopped and stared.

“Try some?” The fork, wrapped with steaming linguini, was pointed at Vimes’ face. To his horror, he started to giggle. He slapped his hand over his mouth. This was ridiculous. Yet the fork remained as did the out-of-place, faint smile on the Patrician’s face.

“The things I do for—“ He hesitantly allowed Vetinari to feed him pasta. It had the audacity to be delicious.

“Anything yet?” Vimes whispered, still chewing.

“No, I think we need to be a bit more…” Vetinari wiped the corner of his mouth with his napkin and put it on the table before he leaned toward Vimes.

“A bit more what…what are you doing?”

Sam had barely time to swallow before his chin was caught between strong fingers and warm, thin lips pressed against his. He meeped against Havelock’s mouth.

“What—“ He barely got the word out before Havelock’s tongue slipped between his parted lips.

“WE GOT HIM!”

That had been Captain Carrot’s voice. Vimes barely noticed. When had his hand become entangled in the front of Havelock’s coat?

“WE GOT HIM, MISTER VIMES!”

Sam groaned into the kiss when long fingers slid into his hair, kneading the back of his neck.

“SIR? YOU CAN— OUCH!”

The moon shone, the stars twinkled and the howl sounded more like a wolf’s chuckle, but none of those things mattered right now. Later they both agreed as far as first dates went, this one hadn’t been too bad after all.

The End


	2. In the kitchen - for no reason at all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in my Cravings series verse.

It’s so late it’s early when Sam returns to their house in Small Gods. It’s dark inside, but that doesn’t bother him as he shuffles quietly into the kitchen. His knees and back ache, and against all logic, the fresh stitches on his forearm are already beginning to itch.

His lips are parched and his throat is dry; he can’t even remember the last time he had anything to eat. But he’s smiling as he opens the tap, fills a tall glass with water and drains it in one go. He doesn’t flinch when he feels a warm hand descend on his shoulder. When he turns, a slightly dishevelled Patrician is smirking at him.

“You look happy,” Vetinari remarks, his fingertips carefully skimming along the edges of the bandage around Sam’s arm. Vimes shrugs in answer to the unspoken question. Just a scratch. Havelock takes a deep breath and lets the matter go. Vimes sets the glass down.

“We got them.” Pride and satisfaction rolling off him in waves in time with his heartbeat. It has been a good night and it promises to get even better if the look his lover is giving him is anything to go by.

“Then, I shall look forward to reading the report in the morning. Anything else?”

Sam shakes his head and leans forward, his nose brushing alongside Havelock’s before he closes the gap and kisses him. When he tries to pull Vetinari into his arms, he is stopped by a hand on his breastplate.

“Shower first. I insist.”

Vimes sniffs. He has a point. “Shower then bed?”

“Tired?”

“I said bed, not sleep.”

“We’ll see,” Havelock smiles and kisses him again.

The End


	3. On the sidewalk - Relief

Even a block away from the inferno, his skin still prickled from the heat. Determined looking men and women with soot stained faces hurried passed him with buckets of water. Well intended but ultimately futile. Their only hope was the arrival of the golems.

Vetinari exhaled and leaned against the grimy brick wall when the ground beneath his feet began to shake. With the exception of the roaring flames, the golems marched in eerie silence right into the fire, watched by an equally silent crowd. It was mesmerising in its surreality.

A strangled cry ripped the Patrician out of his trance. When he looked to his right, the commander already sprinted toward him.

“You’re alive,” Vimes wheezed, seizing Vetinari’s shoulders. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m—“

Sam’s lips were softer than they looked. The kiss had an edge of desperation, but Havelock didn’t mind as he didn’t mind the taste of tobacco or the astringent smell of singed leather.

Vimes pressed their foreheads together. “I thought you were still in there. I thought you were— ”

This time it was Vetinari’s turn to silence the other man’s babbling with a kiss. He had known the commander cared but not how much until now. It was only vexing he had to lose half the palace to find out.

Sam’s palms were warm as they cradled his face, drawing him in for another kiss. And it was then and there Havelock decided that maybe half a palace was a fair price after all.

The End


	4. In a vehicle - Longing

Water nearly sloshed over the edge of the small basin when the train jolted into motion.Vimes shifted his feet to regain his balance before he splashed his face, calloused palms scraping over stubble. He looked at his reflection in the shaving mirror. Dark circles under his eyes challenged his determination to stay awake. Tomorrow he would be in Zemphis and from there it wasn’t too far to the Chalk. He could make it. He would make it. All he had to do was get through this night.

Sam sighed. Bone aching fatigue was wearing him down. But he couldn’t, wouldn’t give in. It wasn’t as if the Summoning Dark would sleepwalk him off a moving train, but who knew what it was capable of now that it had finally found a way _in_.

For a moment, the eyes in the mirror gleamed black. Vimes flinched and growled. He lit the lantern as the lights of the city flickered in a steady rhythm past his private cabin. The train would gather speed once they were outside the city limits where it would be the only source of light for miles, crawling through the darkness.  

His tailcoat and detachable collar lay discarded on the bunk. He was so tempted to join them, but Vimes knew the second his head touched the pillow, it would be too late.

Just two hours ago a servant had prevented a tragedy by dropping a tray full of champagne flutes on the marble stairs, jolting Vimes out of his trance. He was staring at the drawn red curtains of the Patrician’s box, a wooden stake in hand. How he had come by it or how he had managed to slip out of his seat and walk all the way to the other side of the opera house without being challenged would remain a mystery.

All he could remember before that moment was seeing Havelock Vetinari and the vampire smiling and looking comfortable in each other’s presence before the lights went out.

 _‘She’s in the way.’_ The voice had hissed, pouring venom into his aching heart.

_‘You know what you want, commander. Who you want. Trust me, it’s not just you. Oh, but he feels an obligation to her. That’s the kind of man he is. He’s honourable in his own way. But she’s not even alive, Vimes, not really. Is it really murder when the heart hasn’t beaten for centuries?’_

Vimes had dropped the stake and ran.

Rumours had it there was a powerful witch on the Chalk who might be able to help him. No-one else had managed so far. The incident today had been one of many small events in the past weeks, ever since he had finally realised what it was that had been driving him up the wall for months.

There was a knock on the door. Sam got up and opened it a fraction.

’NO!”

He tried to slam it shut, but his visitor had anticipated the move and shoved him backwards, the slender frame deceptively strong.

Vimes backed into the cabin, staring wide eyed at Havelock Vetinari who closed the door behind him with a soft click.

“What are you doing, commander?”

“What am I doing? How are you even here?” Sam’s shoulders were heaving, his back pressed against the wall.

Vetinari gave him an incredulous look. “I followed you. What happened?”

“I… Listen, you have to go.”

Some indiscernible emotion flashed across Vetinari’s usually stoic face.

“Sam—“

Desperate, terrified, Vimes exploded into motion, pushing the other man against the door, blindly groping for the handle.

“Get out!”

Vetinari’s eyes flew open. They struggled against each other. One of Sam’s hands was suddenly around Vetinari’s waist the other on the back of his neck. Havelock’s hands around Sam’s face. Their lips moving against each other, swallowing desperate groans. Sam all but whimpered into Havelock’s mouth.

“Please go. I don’t…I don’t know…” Sam’s hands were not listening to him either, pulling Havelock so hard against him, the seams of the Patrician’s coat were ripping.

Vetinari shook his head, still cradling Sam’s face. “You’re trying to find the witch to get rid of the demon.” A statement not a question. Sam nodded.

“Good. Let’s get some rest. It will be a long day.”

Vimes mouth opened and closed a few times. His head ached. His heart ached. He was tired and terrified and happy all at once. Havelock seemed to somehow understand and simply kissed him again before he pulled him toward the bunk, too small for two but they somehow made due.

When Sam was about to protest out of habit, Havelock just pulled him closer.

“No. I’ll be the one watching. Makes for nice change, don’t you think?”

Sam couldn’t answer, already fast asleep on Havelock’s chest.

The End


	5. In the shower - First Date

“Well, commander, I have to admit you do take me to the most fascinating places.”

There was amusement in Vetinari’s voice although his face was a mask of disgust as he unsuccessfully tried to rub the grime and possibly stench off his boots by scraping them along the curb.

They had finally emerged from their involuntary trip into what anywhere else people would call the sewers after a misunderstanding, a chase and something to do with not adhering to health and safety regulations in the workplace which Vimes swore he was going to follow up on once he felt reasonably sure he wasn’t going to alarm the owner of the factory with the dodgy floorboards with his smell from three blocks away. Wouldn’t want that bastard to do a runner. At the moment Vimes felt like he’d never be clean again.

However, the important part was of course, “Just doing my job, sir.”

Vetinari gave him a look.

“You’re alive and unharmed, aren’t you?”

“Alive, yes. Unharmed? I think my olfactory organs have shut down out of sheer self-preservation instinct.”

“Lucky for you, then,” Vimes growled. “Let’s try and get cleaned up before I take you back. I can already see the cartoon in the bloody Times if anyone spots us like this.”

Vetinari shrugged but silently agreed. That would not do, especially since they were both in plain clothes and it would lead to a lot of questions neither of them would be ready to answer.

“Any suggestions where we’ll accomplish this?”

“Easy,” Sam replied, picking up a brick. “We’re gong to break into Mrs Gallivant’s house over there and use her facilities.”

Vetinari’s eyebrows shot toward his hairline, but before he could even open his mouth, Vimes had already broken a downstairs window and jumped through it. A minute later the backdoor opened.

“Do I want to know how you knew this house would be empty?” Vetinari asked as he stepped inside. He looked at the broken glass. “Also, what’s wrong with a bit of good old-fashioned lock picking?”

Vimes sighed. “If you must know, I’m tired and have slime in places where no slime has any right to be. Also, this is one of my houses. She’s my tenant. I’ll replace the window before she’s back. She’ll never know. The best part is, she has a shower. One of the new fangled ones with perpetual hot water supply.”

“I see,” Vetinari said, refraining from pointing out that breaking into your tenant’s house whenever you want to was surely not part of the rental agreement. “If you’ll excuse me—“

Vimes caught his arm. “You are unharmed, aren’t you?”

Vetinari’s features soften for the fraction of a second. “I’m fine.”

Vimes grunted something in return which might have been ‘good’.

The Patrician tried to leave again in search of the facilities when Vimes held him back a second time.

“I’m sorry it didn’t go as planned.” Sam was looking everywhere but Havelock’s face.

“That’s quite alright. I knew who I’d be spending time with when I invited you. I’m still a bit surprised you actually agreed to meet me in the first place.”

That got Sam’s attention. “Why?”

Vetinari had to suppress a snort. Sam looked so earnestly puzzled. “Because I wasn’t asking as the Patrician.”

“Yes, I know.” Was that a bit of colour shooting into Vimes’ cheeks? It was a bit hard to tell under all the muck.

“And what is it that you know exactly?”

Ah, and there he was. That stubborn, angry man Vetinari had become hopelessly attached to against his better judgement. He was looking at Havelock now, trying not to snarl. Poking him was so much fun, but Vetinari had to be mindful not to overdo it this time lest Sam would be forced to re-plaster poor Mrs Gallivant’s kitchen wall as well.

“You know damn well what! You…ye gods, we bloody reek! Look, can we do this after we’ve cleaned up?”

Havelock briefly put his hand over his mouth before he replied, “Of course.”

The bathroom was upstairs and had indeed a shower stall as well as a bathtub. They both agreed that in their current condition a shower would be best, but they filled the bathtub anyway to wash their clothes. They both stripped down to their underwear before they became very conscious of the other man in the room.

Communal nudity wasn’t new to either of them, but their situation was admittedly a bit different. They stared at each other for a minute before Havelock slowly peeled off the last layer of clothing and dropped it into the tub. Sam very deliberately kept his eyes on Havelock’s face.

He swallowed a few times before he could get the words out. “Go ahead. I’ll… I’ll see if… I’ll see if Mrs Gallivant has any clothes left from when there was a Mr Gallivant around. Uhm…”

Sam turned and heard the shower being turned on. However, before he could leave the room, a hand came to rest on his shoulder. He slowly turned and stared at Havelock.

Vimes knew he was panting, but he couldn’t help it. He obediently lifted his arms when Havelock stripped his undershirt off him until there was only one thing left to do. Instead of reaching for him, Vetinari turned and stepped under the spray. Sam’s eyes finally roamed over every inch of Havelock’s skin, pale and stretched over taut, lean muscles.

As if in trance, Sam let the last bit of fabric fall to the floor before he absentmindedly picked it up and dropped it into the bathtub. He was already hard when he stepped into the shower even before Vetinari turned and touched him. At first methodically, helping wash off the muck, but little by little the touches became more deliberate, arousing.

Later Sam wouldn’t be able to tell who moved first. One minute they were just cleaning up and the next he was pressing Havelock against the tiles, their lips fused together.

Yeah, he knew damn well it hadn’t been the Patrician asking, and he was okay with that.

The End


	6. In the Snow - For a bet

For quite some time, Havelock Vetinari had considered making Young Sam Vimes a member of the council because the mind of a six year-old was a remarkable thing.Complex and unsurmountable problems for an adult became simple, downright trifling matters when filtered through the lens of a six year-old’s eye. It was almost miraculous.

“But you’re the ruler of the city, aren’t you?”

“Be that as it may, I can’t order people to like me,” Vetinari replied as they stood in the palace gardens, eating sandwiches and watching the commander trying to lift a large snow boulder on top of another one a few feet away.

Young Sam chewed with a thoughtful expression. “Yes, that would be wrong. But you must be brave to do what you do.”

“Brave?” As it was so often the case when he talked to the boy, Vetinari was momentarily stunned. He didn’t even have time to recover when the next question hit him.

“Wouldn’t a brave person just ask people if they liked him, too?”

“I suppose they would,” Vetinari admitted. “However—“

“He likes you too. I know he does. Mummy always says he should tell you already.”

Vetinari coughed to dislodge a bit of sandwich which got stuck in his throat when he had suddenly inhaled in surprise. When the commander looked over, he just waved him off and kept coughing.

The Patrician took a few deep breath before he asked, “What makes you think I was talking about your father?”

It was scary how much Young Sam resembled his dad when he said, “I’m six, not stupid.”

“Of course, my apologies.” Vetinari said smoothly and made a mental note to get Sybil’s permission to allow Young Sam to attend the next council meeting.

“I bet if you went over there and told him, he’d be happy.”

Vetinari chuckled. “I bet he’d storm off and, if I’m lucky, he won’t hit me before he does.” It was frighteningly easy to be honest with small children.

“I bet you a dollar he won’t.”

He knew this was a bad idea, but he turned to the boy and his mouth said, “Deal.” They shook hands.

“I have to go pee.” Young Sam said, scrunching up his nose, and hurried off back inside, leaving Havelock and Sam senior alone.

Vimes jogged over, face flushed but looking satisfied, especially when he turned to observe his work from a distance. The snowman was definitely coming along nicely.

The commander reached for a sandwich when Havelock said, “You have a remarkable boy, commander.”

Sam beamed at him. “I do. He takes after his mother, thank gods for that.”

“Yes, we had an interesting conversation about bravery and honesty.”

Vimes chewed and raised his eyebrows.

“He told me you’d be happy if I was honest with you.”

The commander swallowed and chuckled, “Yes, that would make me happy, but while we’re on the subject, you and I know that you’re about as honest as a corkscrew.” When he noticed Vetinari’s deadpan expression he added, “Oh, don’t worry. I won’t hold it against you. It’s just who you are. A leopard can’t change his shorts, isn’t that what you always say? Anyway, actions speak louder than words. And so far, you’ve always acted in the city’s best interest. I’ve no complaints.” He paused. “I have little complaints.” He paused again. “I have—“

The rest of the sentence was kissed out of his mouth. The sandwich dropped into the snow when Sam pulled Havelock closer, deepening the kiss.

“I’m sorry, was that what you meant with actions speak louder?” Havelock asked against Sam’s lips.

Vimes nodded. “Like I said, I’ve no complaints, sir.”

Havelock made a mental note to give Young Sam a dollar.

The End


	7. In the Watchhouse - Admiration

“I had…fun,” Vetinari confessed as he unbuckled the Watchman helmet.

“Fun? I’m surprised that word is even in your vocabulary, sir,” snorted Vimes, darkly amused.

“I think I liked it better when you called me Lance-Constable.”

The Patrician dropped the helmet onto a chair. His smile quickly dissolved when he saw the expression on the commander’s face. The tension between them now almost tangible like a living thing, coiling and writhing, begging to be acknowledged.

“Liked being bossed around for a change?”

Vetinari returned the heated stare. “You always proclaim to hate your station but you _are_ the commander of the City Watch. Your subordinates follow you without a second thought. You have a gift for inspiring devotion. It’s one thing to know what you can do, but, pretence or not, I found out today what it feels like to be one of yours. And they are yours. Humans, dwarfs, werewolves, vampires, gargoyles, golems, _Captain Carrot_.” Vetinari put an inflection on the name which someone managed to make it sound like _the king_. “Whether you want to or not, they are in awe of you.”

Vimes tried to look anywhere but Vetinari who was walking toward him with slow, deliberate steps.

“Well, uhm, well…I suppose someone has to be in charge and—“

Havelock’s hand was surprisingly cool, but his lips were just as warm and soft as any other human beings. Sam flinched in surprise. He had known of course, but just like the relationship with his Watchmen, there was knowing and then there was feeling it come to live.

They stared at each other for five heartbeats before he closed the gap again. When they came up for air, the edge of his desk was digging painfully into his thighs, his back protesting at the odd angle he was bending over backwards, but he was smiling as he combed his fingers through the Patrician's hair.

They both jerked their heads around toward the metal apparatus when the speaking tube rattled ominously, followed by the voice of one of his sergeants. “Commander, have you seen Lance-Constable Dogorski. Someone said he might be with you.”

Havelock hummed against Sam’s lips. Vimes pushed the Patrician off him, noticing with some satisfaction that the man was slightly out of breath as well. He smoothed his hair down despite the fact that no-one else could see him before he took the mouthpiece and said, “He had to go home on urgent family business. Don’t worry about him. We’ll sort it later.”

He gave Havelock a meaningful look. The Patrician smirked and stepped closer again.

“I said later.” Vimes growled as he put the mouthpiece down.

“Was that an offer, commander?”

“No. A promise, Lance-Constable.”

The End


	8. At the other’s place - Missing the other

Sam Vimes was disappointed when he ran his hand over the polished wood of the desk in the Oblong Office and found it was completely clean. Logically, he knew the staff would be tidying up in here as always. However, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the furniture was being disrespectful. It should have the decency to look dusty or dull like the clouds outside. “It was a gloomy, cloudy day when Havelock Vetinari stepped down from office” would make a good start for a Times article thought Vimes.

The Patrician had left this morning, and tomorrow his successor would sit in this very room and tell the commander of the Watch how to keep the peace in Ankh-Morpork. Ha, fat chance at that! Sam snorted but his hands balled into fists as he walked around the room. It felt so empty.

“Why did I even come in here?” He wondered out loud.

Two arms snaked around his waist, hugging him gently, a pointy chin came to rest on his shoulder. Warm breath tickled his ear when Havelock asked, “Why indeed?”

“All done?” Sam asked, leaning into the embrace

“All done. Why _did_ you come in here?”

Vimes shrugged and turned around, pulling Vetinari closer. “I don’t know. It does feel incredibly strange though to think of you not being in here ever again.”

“Not to put too fine a point on it, but that goes for you as well. But I’m here now,” Havelock replied with a tilt of his head.

“True. And yes, you are,“ Sam agreed and kissed him.

Havelock tasted like the chocolate cake the staff had baked for him as a goodbye present. So unfair. All Sam had got from his fellow officers was a BLT without the B and a goldish watch.

“You know,” Vimes said after a while, “this is the first time we’re kissing in here.”

“Last time too, I hope. And if we don’t want to miss our train, we’d better be on our way.”

“Fair enough,” Sam agreed. They were already almost through the door when he pulled Havelock’s sleeve.

“Say it one more time.” Vimes looked almost sheepish.

Havelock gave him a look before he rolled his eyes, indicating Sam was being very silly, but he acquiesced.

“Don’t let me detain you, Sir Samuel.”

Vimes saluted and with a last look around the Oblong Office they both smiled and closed the door on their way out.

The End


	9. In the Rain - Celebration

“They’re getting closer” Vimes mumbled as they weaved through the throng of people, most of them drunk, half of them dancing, all of them too pre-occupied with the carnival to notice the chase.

“They haven’t spotted us yet,” Vetinari replied levelly.

“I don’t like this,” Sam complaint.

“No offence, commander, but in my experience there’s hardly anything you do.”

Was that a snigger? Sam narrowed his eyes although Vetinari wouldn’t be able to see it under the damn masks they were wearing to blend into the crowd.

“Well, excuse me, your lordship, but I’m usually the one doing the chasing not the other way around. And what’s wrong with this city? Rain shouldn’t be warm!” He angrily tugged on his white shirt which was clinging to him like a second skin thanks to the constant drizzle.

Vimes was sweaty, damp and itchy, not to mention pursued by people who wanted him dead. Correction - wanted Vetinari dead, but it amounted to the same in his book.

“Message received, Sir Samuel. Next time I’m invited to a summit in Genua, I shall ask Captain Carrot to accompany me.”

“Are you taking the piss?”

Vimes pulled Vetinari back until they were facing each other in the middle of the street. People around them danced, faces half-obscured by colourful masks that left their mouths free to eat, drink and sing as it was custom on Fat Lunchtime.

“I’m sure I don’t know—“

Vimes took a step closer, ready to shield the Patrician should it become necessary. “How many?” 

“Two on the roofs, two in front of the hat shop and two in front of the gumbo stall. Still searching.”

“Any idea how to shake them off?”

Vetinari turned his head and glanced at the clock tower. When he looked back at Vimes, he said, “I need you to trust me and go along with whatever happens next.”

Without thinking, Sam nodded. The clock struck twelve.

Everything went quiet all of a sudden except for the ringing of the bell, each chime resonating in Sam’s head as he was kissed within an inch of his life. He had his arms around Vetinari’s neck, which would make it easier to choke him once the danger had passed, but in the meantime helped keep him upright as his knees turned to jelly. Damn, the man could kiss!

When the ringing stopped, Vetinari turned his head, still holding Sam close. “There they go.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, Vimes spotted the six assassins stalking through the crowd like sharks in shallow waters. Around them, most people were still locked in a tight embrace.

“We should make sure they don’t see us,” Vimes heard himself say before he closed the gap again. He felt Havelock smile against his lips.

“Somehow I doubt you’d have resorted to this tactic with Carrot,” Sam observed when they came up for air.

Vetinari smirked at him just long enough for Vimes to start doubting himself before Havelock replied, “Probably not.”

“Probably?”

For a moment Vetinari’s hand covered his mouth before he said. “Happy Fat Lunchtime, commander. Shall we go back to the embassy?”

“Maybe, although I think I’m starting to enjoy myself after all.”

He couldn’t see Vetinari’s eyes, but his body language suggested Vimes wasn’t the only one, especially when he pulled Sam close and kissed him again.

The End


	10. At a party - Life or Death

“One more step…”

The world was a swaying, blurry blob. Someone was talking to him. Blasted, why couldn’t these people leave him be?

He hated these gatherings, oh no, _soirées_ which was just another fancy word for people with more money than sense pretending they were better than the rest by drinking overpriced booze and eating tiny nibbles which meant they had to go and raid the kitchen at 3am when they staggered home because they’d still be hungry. Vimes hated the lot of them.

“Easy…”

Sam grunted when he was jostled about. He felt his back connecting with something. Was he lying down? A part of his brain screamed this wasn’t supposed to happen, but a much larger part only felt fuzzy and mildly vexed at being manhandled by…someone. Reaching out through the thick fog clouding his vision, his fingertips brushed over sharp cheekbones and a fuzz covered chin which seemed oddly familiar. 

“Drink!”

Something was pressed against his lips. It burned. Vimes spat, hands swatting and pushing against his captor. He felt faintly nauseated.

“No, Vimes, you have to—”

“No,” Sam said, or thought he had, he couldn’t be sure. His stomach was tying itself into knots, each heartbeat suddenly agnonising. He tried again to fight against whoever was trying to force him to…to do what?

“I apologise, but you leave me no choice.”

Thin lips covered his own, a tongue pushing into his mouth. Something trickled down his throat, he swallowed as best he could. When he started to choke, the pressure on his chest and lips vanished.

“Vimes, you’ve been poisoned. Drink!” Someone was pressing something into his hand.

“Poison?” Sam spluttered.

“There is an antidote in your hand - drink it!”

“Wha—“

“Now!”

Sam drank. The liquid burned like acid, but the pain in his gut and chest seemed to ease. His vision returned as well. The fuzzy, dark blob in front of him morphed into Havelock Vetinari.

“Welcome back, commander.”

Maybe it was Sam’s imagination, but the Patrician looked a bit dishevelled, a strand of the usually tightly controlled hair clinging to his forehead.

“What happened?”

“You nearly died.”

“Did I now? How?” He winced as he sat up, his head was aching, but maybe that was a good sign. Aching meant alive.

“Oh, nothing out of the ordinary. Just a bit of poison. I happen to carry an antidote for several of the more common ones around with me. Really, the hardest part was getting you to drink it.”

Vimes stared at the Patrician. His hand automatically touching his lips. “Did you—“

“My apologies, but you offered considerable resistance for a man who had about 30 seconds before his heart would have stopped.”

“You saved my life.”

“See it as returning the favour. I still owe you about six or seven, but who’s counting?” Vetinari brushed the errand strand back into place and straightened up.

“Did you…kiss me?”

The Patrician raised an eyebrow. “Certainly not. But I had to use my mouth to get you to swallow at least a bit of the antidote before you expired.”

“Well…uhm…well, thank you. Uhm…” Sam rubbed the back of his head. His lips still tingled, probably from the antidote.

“Shall we?” Vetinari gestured to the door which probably led back to the party.

Vimes grinned nastily. “Oh yes, I have an assassin to catch.”

Now at least the party would be fun. Later on both would pretend not to notice how Sam touched his lips every few minutes for the rest of the night.

The End


	11. At a party/Bet AND In the Snow/Life or Death

Sam Vimes had sworn never to return to this place as it held so many nightmarish memories, but his lordship had insisted in his own enigmatic way, so here he was again.

The embassy in Bonk was brightly lit. His Grace, the Duke of Ankh as well as the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork had requested the pleasure of their company, and now the who’s who from all over Überwald were forming an orderly queue in the snow which quite possibly stretched to the town’s gates.

Later on several Igors circulated the room with silver trays as Sam Vimes tried to conjure up a wooden stake by sheer force of will when he came face to face with Lady Margolotta. She beamed at him and Sam thought it was probably no coincidence that smile and slime were only separated by a polite arrangement between M and L.

“Tell you vhat, your Grace. Indulge me and I shall allow Havelock’s deal to go ahead.”

She sniggered as she pointed a manicured finger at the Patrician who stood under an archway decorated with mistletoe, raising an eyebrow at her when he noticed the attention.

“I’m not playing your silly game,” Vimes replied flatly, his hand balling into a fist behind his back.

She pouted and even that managed to look predatory as her fangs dug into her bottom lip. “Maybe I vas vrong and you’re not a betting man. But I thought following traditions vas the epitome of being _civilised_. ”

Sam felt the word crawl up his spine, coil around his brain and unhinge a few filters his wife and his boss had firmly cemented there over the years.

“Listen closely, madam. The last person who taunted me like that fitted into a bucket after I was done with him. Whatever is going on between you and his lordship is none of my business. I might go so far as to say I treasure my ignorance in the matter, so stop trying to drag me into it.”

“Or vhat?” There was a nasty gleam in her eyes.

“Or even the finest dust brush and a bathtub full of blood won’t be able to put you back together.”

She laughed loud enough to turn heads. Vimes could feel his anger rising from his neck upwards. The Patrician had both eyebrows raised at them when Sam spared him a glance.

She wanted games? He would give her games. With a snarl Sam turned on his heel and marched purposefully toward Vetinari who was narrowing his eyes at him. Before the Patrician could get so much as a “what” past his lips, Sam pointed at the plants and then snaked his hand around Vetinari’s neck before dragging him forward into a kiss.

The room went eerily quiet for a few seconds before it erupted into thunderous applause; there were even a few wolf whistles.

“Well,” Vetinari said after they broke apart, wiping his bottom lip with his thumb, “at least our guests seemed to be entertained by your display of ancient customs.”

“A very traditional people those Überwald folk,” Sam agreed, quickly reaching for a pitcher of water to rinse out of his mouth. He ignored Vetinari for as long as he could which was pretty much as long as it took to take a sip and swallow before he mumbled, “I’m sorry, but there were circumstances. I’ll explain it later.”

When Vimes glared at the vampire, she gave him a nod and raised her glass in salute. This round had clearly gone to him. Ha! It might have even been worth the mortification.

“Would you explain it to me now?” Even Vetinari’s requests sounded like commands when he wanted them to.

“What, you didn’t think I was suddenly overcome with the urge to publicly display my affection toward my employer?” Sam quipped, ignoring the decidedly blank and yet somehow annoyed stare he got in return.

He gave in. “Your vampire friend bet I wouldn’t dare kiss you under the mistletoe, not even if she allowed your deal to go ahead without a hitch.”

“I see,” Vetinari replied. “You do realise of course the deal was finalised even before we left the city.”

“What?”

Vimes didn’t know what was more humiliating, the fact he had been played for a fool or the pity in the Patrician’s eyes.

“Please don’t,” Vetinari warned, sensing the commander’s intention.

“She yanked my chain. I warned her, and she did it anyway,” Sam growled.

“No, commander,” Vetinari whispered. “Not yours.”

The muscles in the Patrician’s jaw flexed as he looked seemingly bored in Lady Margolotta’s direction. She smirked and it dawned on Vimes that there was more going on here than a game of silly buggers.

“Please excuse me,” Vetinari said and sauntered over to her, leaving Vimes standing a bit forlorn under the mistletoe. He quickly moved away before someone else got it into their head to follow tradition.

When he scanned the room, the Patrician and the vampire were nowhere to be found. His stomach sank. Something was off, he could feel it. Where would they go?

He remembered a corridor leading to the inner courtyard right underneath the stairs. Following his hunch, he excused himself under the pretence of needing a smoke and stuck to the shadows. Muffled voices echoed into the narrow passageway from the other side of the heavy door.

“Very droll. But do take care, my friend.”

“Oh Havelock, it’s as I’ve alvays feared, you’ll die sad and alone. I’m only trying to help,” Lady Margolotta replied with a sigh.

The next words were almost inaudible, but the tone still carried. Vimes stared at the door. He had never known the Patrician to get openly angry with anybody, not like normal people at least. However, even he would have taken a step back had whatever Vetinari just said been directed at him.

On the other hand, the vampire seemed to be undeterred because her next words were, “His heart skips a beat vhen he’s looking at you.”

What? Who? Wha—

“We won’t speak of this again,” Vetinari hissed.

“Yours beats tvice as fast. For a moment, I thought you’d have a - vhat do you call it - a heart attack vhen he—“

“Stay away from him.” There was no “or else” but it was heavily implied.

Suddenly, Vimes pulse was racing. What was going on? Who were they talking about? A part of him knew of course, but the rest of him refused to believe it.

The door was yanked open. Lady Margolotta was smiling at him. “Ah, your Grace, a moment of your time.”

The next thing Vimes knew, he was several feet up in the air and flying toward the tree line. The vampire held him only by his arm, but he knew struggle was futile. She could rip him in half if she wanted to without breaking into a sweat, or she could simply let go. The result would be pretty much the same form this height.

“What is going on?” he asked when she dropped him into the snow somewhere in the forest. He was only wearing a formal evening suit and already he wondered whether he would retain the use of his fingers and toes.

She didn’t bother to answer before she disappeared.

“Well, that’s just wonderful,” Sam growled at the night, trying to wrap his jacket around him, hands stuck under his armpits as he staggered around the snow which reached up to mid-calf.

It had been a short flight, but it was pitch black and he had no idea where he was or even which direction would lead him back to Bonk.

Shelter, that was his priority. If he could make it through the night, he might have a chance to find his way back tomorrow. Plus he was sure, Vetinari would send out a search party for him. Reasonably sure.

What had all that been about? Sam’s head was still spinning when something landed close to him in a snow heap with a soft thud.

On closer inspection that something turned out to be the Patrician. So much for the rescue party.

“Are you alright?” Vimes asked, trying to brush snow off the other man’s back who was coughing and stomping.

“I’m fine, commander.”

“Good. With all due respect, what the hell is going on?”

Just like Sam, Vetinari wrapped his jacket tighter around him and began to purposefully stomp through the snow. Vimes had no choice but to follow. After a few minutes, when Sam had already given up on getting an answer, Vetinari said, “She means well.”

Vimes stopped. “Well? WELL? We will probably die out here. Well? She’s a sodding vampire and this is probably her idea of cold storage.”

It took Sam a few moments to process that the sound coming from Vetinari was a chuckle.

“Oh, I’m glad you find our imminent death so amusing, your lordship.”

“Ah, Sir Samuel, you do make me laugh,” the Patrician replied. “We’re almost there.”

“There? What there? Where?”

Vetinari pointed toward a dark outline among the trees which on closer inspection turned out to be a hunter’s cabin. The interior consisted of a small iron stove with a rug in front of it made from something unidentifiable, a small coffee table, and a rocking chair, and nothing else, but it beat freezing to death any day.

“How did you know this was here?” Vimes asked, barely able to keep his teeth from chattering as he opened the stove. It was empty. Damn.

“I’ve been in these parts many times and there has always been shack up here. She wouldn’t have brought us otherwise.”

“You’re seriously defending her after all she did tonight?” asked Sam while he was looking for anything suitable to make a fire. His gaze fell on the table and the chair. Since Vetinari was already rocking back and forth in the latter, it would have to be the table.

Sam still had his matches in his pocket. The table was old, but it burned like a treat. They had taken their jackets, shoes and wet socks off. As the cabin heated up, Vimes allowed himself to relax by increments, especially when feeling returned to his fingers and toes.

“She’s my oldest friend.”

“Literally or figuratively?”

Vetinari snorted. “Both, actually. But you know how old people are. They get funny ideas sometimes, especially when they think their time has come.”

Vimes’ head whipped around. “She’s dying? I didn’t think her kind could, not like us.”

“No, not really. But every ten, twenty years or so, she gets these moods when she feels how ephemeral human life is and she starts to meddle. That’s how the temperance league started.”

“Hang on, are you saying the Black Ribboners exist because a nobby vampire gets the undead equivalent of a midlife crises ever so often?”

Vetinari nodded. “Succinctly put, as always, Sir Samuel.”

“I’m sitting on a rug in a cabin surrounded by deep snow in the middle of bloody Überwald with you because your girlfriend has some sort of existential crisis?”

There was a long sigh before the Patrician replied, “She’s my friend who is a woman—“

“Undead woman.”

“Differently alive woman,” Vetinari countered. “But she is not my girlfriend.”

“Fine. Then what was all that about heartbeats and leaving people alone?”

The rocking chair stopped creaking. “You were listening.”

“I was worried,” said Vimes defensively.

The Patrician was looking at him for a long time. He seemed to be frozen, but Sam knew thoughts were racing behind that closed off expression, calculating the best way forward.

Eventually, Havelock stared at his hands and said, “I have to ask you for a favour, commander.”

Vimes grunted which could be interpreted as "go ahead".

“Forget what you’ve heard.”

Forget? Forget what? Ha. But seriously, Vimes wasn’t even sure what he had heard except that the implication had been…no, that was impossible. But what if…

“Forget it. Please.”

Vimes felt his chin sag. Now he was sure he wouldn’t be able to let it go. Vetinari had begged, outright begged him to forget which meant they had been talking about him. Did his heart really skip a beat when he looked at Havelock? Probably.

“What if I don’t want to?”

Another long sigh. “Yes, it had momentarily lapsed my memory that you’re contradictory by nature and sometimes, I think, just to spite me. So, please do go on remembering, but will you do me at least the courtesy never to speak of it again?”

Sam licked his lips, and couldn’t help but notice Havelock’s eyes following the motion. And there it was, just the fraction of a tightening of the throat, paradoxically easier to see in the way the shadows danced across Vetinari’s features.

“This is about the kiss, isn’t it?”

The Patrician said nothing, but his lips formed a hard line when Sam shuffled closer on his knees.

“You liked the kiss.”

“No, I didn’t and neither did you.” Vetinari shot back.

Vimes nodded. “True, I didn’t care for the audience.”

“Or the taste.”

“Paid close attention, did you?” Sam reached out and carefully laid his hands on Vetinari’s thighs. “I was so shocked my mouth had run dry.”

“What are you doing, commander?” Was he imagining it or did Havelock sound slightly breathless?

“I want to know what’s going on.”

“You need to stop.” Vetinari’s hands captured Sam’s wrists.

“Do you really want me to?”

They stared at each other for several heartbeats before Havelock rocked forward into Sam’s arms, allowing Vimes to pull him onto the rug.

Yes, so much better without an audience, thought Sam, parting his lips as Havelock deepened the kiss.

“Let’s get out of these clothes,” he suggested between kisses, hands already busily pulling on Havelock’s shirt.

They had to burn the chair in the end as well, and after that, they had to sleep so close, it was hard to tell where one started and the other began. Neither of them thought to complain.

When they returned to the embassy the next morning, they were greeted by Igor.

“Ah, good to thee you again thirth. Her ladythhip mentioned you would be back around thith time.”

“Did she now?” Sam asked, his face wooden

“Yeth, indeed. And her ladythip left a meththage.”

“And the message is?” Havelock enquired.

“You’re velcome.” Igor winked and shambled back into the embassy, leaving Havelock and Sam rooted to the spot.

The End


	12. In the snow - First date

“Explain to me again why we couldn’t do this somewhere warmer?” Vimes groused as he shook the snow off his heavy coat.He stomped his boots on the steps of the ancient gazebo. It had been rediscovered during construction in a forgotten corner of Hyde Park of all places.

“Take a seat, commander,” Vetinari replied, completely ignoring the question, and patting the stone bench next to him. At least it had a cushion of some sort.

Obediently, Vimes shuffled over, still complaining about the weather under his breath, and sat down.  

“So, what’s all this about, your lordship?”

Vetinari sighed. “I thought we were past this?”

Vimes shuffled his feet and looked anywhere but the Patrician.

“Well, you can’t reasonably expect a man to break a lifetime habit because of…because of…” The commander waved his hand vaguely between them.

“Because of?” Vetinari sounded darkly amused.

“Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t suit you!” Sam scowled. Besides it had only been one kiss. Or maybe two, depending on what you counted.

When Havelock just smirked at him, Sam sighed and said, “Better tell me why we had to have our…our private appointment here today.”

“Private appointment?” He still used that tone which implied he was endlessly entertained. It drove Sam nuts. “If you insist on calling it that.”

“What else would you call it?” Vimes snapped. Why did he have to fall for the most irritating bastard in the world? Some god was having a good laugh at his expense.

Instead of replying, Havelock handed him a mug which on closer inspection was full of hot cocoa. Sam eyed it suspiciously until Vetinari took it out if his hands took a sip and then handed it back.

“Happy?”

“I’m not unhappy,” Vimes replied, carefully keeping his face blank.

Damn him! He always did that. Just when Sam thought he had figured Vetinari out, the man threw him for a loop. The worst part was Sam kept coming back for more. Like an idiot. He sighed and drank his cocoa.

“Now, why are we here? Because I wanted to show you this.” The Patrician raised his finger, pointing at the vaulted ceiling.

Vimes looked up. The light wasn’t very good, but he could make out figures carved into the stone. He tilted his head and squinted until the scene finally made sense. It was a man standing over a king with a raised axe. There was an inscription underneath.

“Sic semper tyrannis,” Vimes moved his lips as he translated. “Thus be to tyrants. You mean, they’ll always get what’s coming to them?” He stopped and turned his head, looking straight into Vetinari’s cold, blue eyes. “That’s Stoneface.”

“It is,” the Patrician confirmed. “It was dated to the time shortly after your ancestor had done the deed. Apparently, someone thought it was worth preserving the memory of what a good man is willing to do in the face of tyranny.”

Sam put his cocoa down before he got up to get a closer look. The workmanship of the scene was somewhat crude, but the words were edged with surgical precision. Whoever did this had cared. Had felt it worth preserving that a man had stood up and done what was right when no-one else dared to defy what people had mistaken for law and order, but was really just a madman’s indulgence. Sam’s throat felt tight.

Behind him, Vetinari got up as well and moved close enough for Sam to feel the Patrician’s coat brush against his own. And maybe Vimes pressed against him just a little. However, this didn’t quite answer Sam’s question why they had to have their first…private appointment here.

As it was so often the case, Havelock seemed to be reading his mind. “I wanted you to know that whatever is happening between us won’t change my expectation that you will do what is necessary.”

Sam swivelled around. “Oh, don’t worry. You’d be dead before you know it.”

“You didn’t have to agree quite so fast,” Vetinari shot back, but Vimes could see the fondness and barely contained mirth in his eyes.

They grinned before the commander pulled the Patrician closer by the lapels of his coat.

“Havelock,” he whispered against Vetinari’s lips. He wasn’t good with words, but it seemed the Patrician had understood him anyway when he parted his lips and deepened the kiss.

Let that impish god laugh at me, thought Vimes. Right here and now, he was happy standing in the cold, kissing the man he loved.

The End


	13. In the water - Confessing Feelings

“So that’s how you did it,” Vimes clicked his tongue and tried not to think too hard about the billions of litres of water around him.

“Marvellous, isn’t it?” Vetinari beamed.

“Yes, I’m quite pleased myself,” replied Leonard of Quirm, paddling away, and quite oblivious to the fact that no-one had actually addressed him.

“And it’s called?”

“Going-Under-The-Water-Safely Device,” Leonard shouted over his shoulder. “I’ve made quite a few improvements since our last excursion. For example, it needs only one man to power it, but it’s going twice as fast. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Uhm, yes, quite.” Vimes gave the Patrician a puzzled look.

“Please do show him the new room, your lordship,” Leonard encouraged.

“New room?” Sam asked.

“This way, commander.” The Patrician opened what had looked like a locker door to Vimes and squeezed through. He had no choice but to follow.

Vetinari lit a lantern, illuminating a space which contained a tiny round table and two large cushions, the kind some people used as footstools. There was also a crate which on closer inspections contained games of all things.

“What do you think?” The Patrician asked.

“I think room is a generous word for this storage closet,” Vimes replied in all honesty.

“Ah, but watch this.” Vetinari pulled a lever and the walls seemed to slide up like shutters, revealing enormous windows where a solid wall should be. Another leaver turned on several lanterns which were lighting up the area just outside the underwater ship.

Vimes swallowed. “Please tell me that’s not all that’s separating us form certain death?!”

Vetinari smiled. “Oh, it’s quite safe, I assure you.”

Hesitantly, Sam took a step closer and even dared to touch the glass. It was freezing cold but solid. He relaxed his shoulders a little. Vetinari stood by his side, hands clasped behind his back as they drifted soundlessly through the darkness. Occasionally, a school of sea creatures swam past. They were surprisingly colourful.

“It’s like another world,” Vimes observed, somewhat mesmerised. “Look, I usually only get to see these deep fried and battered. Amazing.” He pointed at a curious squid.

“It is quite beautiful,” Vetinari agreed.

They stared at each other through their reflections.

“It was close.” Sam said. Only a month ago Ankh-Morpork and Klatsch had nearly entered into a war over an island that no longer existed.

Vetinari shrugged. “It always is. Only this time we had more witnesses.”

Nothing about that statement was even remotely reassuring. The whole world had watched and a lot of good people nearly lost their lives and their homes, a few of them did. Not to mention…

“You can’t keep on playing like this. One day your luck will run out, but it’s not just you who’ll pay the price,” Vimes said, still looking at Vetinari through his reflection.

They said nothing for a few minutes. When he spoke, Vetinari’s voice was very calm and quiet. “I know. But I rather think the odds are tilted in my favour when I have you in my corner, your Grace.”

Sam snarled. “I hate that title. Why did you do that to me?”

Havelock turned to him. “Because you deserved it.”

“I probably deserve worse, but it’s up there.”

Vetinari moved an inch closer. “See it for what it is: a weapon against the people you despise the most. I don’t know what else to give you.”

Sam frowned. “You don’t need to give me anything. I’ll keep the peace, even if it means arresting you, even if I don’t like it. That’s my job.”

“You didn’t like it?”

“Oh, I think you liked it enough for the both of us!” Sam growled. “Shackles, tsk. What century do you think we live in?”

Another inch, Vimes had to tilt his chin up to maintain eye contact. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest. He thought he’d been careful He thought he’d kept those feelings well hidden. He’d thought he was the only one. Clearly, he’d thought wrong.

“I don’t mind as long as it’s you doing the shackling.” Vetinari leaned forward.

Sam’s breath hitched. “Be careful, sir. My old sergeant used to say, “Don’t let your mouth run debts, your arse can’t cash.”

“I always pay my debts,” Havelock whispered before he closed the gap between them.

The Patrician’s mouth was softer than it looked. Sam caught Vetinari’s bottom lip and sucked until the other man groaned into the kiss.

“Your Grace—“

Sam pulled back. “Oh no, you don’t. If we’re doing this, it’s Sam or commander.”

“How about sir?”

The hungry glint in Vimes’ eyes made Vetinari smile.

“Yeah, sir will do.” Sam panted before he caught Havelock’s mouth in another kiss.

The End


End file.
